


Rebel Heart

by Bridgy_Kathleen



Category: The Patriot (2000)
Genre: 1700s, American Revolution, Angst, Crushes, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love, Patriotism, Revolution, Revolutionary War, Romance, Scarlet - Freeform, Sensuality, Slow Romance, Smut, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, War, Young Love, rebel heart, thomas martin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 17:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18103463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bridgy_Kathleen/pseuds/Bridgy_Kathleen
Summary: At two, Scarlet Smith's mother died from a fever. At six, her father was murdered in his sleep. And by twelve, all of her inheritance was taken from her uncle and aunt.Now fourteen, Scarlet has accidentally killed a man to save her virginity.Terrified, she runs away from her prison called home.Thomas finds her sleeping in his barn one summer morning and convinces his father to help the poor girl out.Throughout the years, Scarlet and Thomas grow very close, but when her true identity is found out, can Thomas keep her safe from an enemy more dangerous than the British?





	Rebel Heart

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is familiar with my work then you know how I go about bringing my characters together.  
> If you are not familiar then I will explain: I take my time (usually) when it comes to bringing two characters together romantically. I want their friendship to grow and their eventual romantic relationship to make sense. When the time comes, the moment two characters become a couple, is all well worth the wait.  
> Sit back and enjoy the story as it unfolds.  
> Rest assured that a sensual relationship between Thomas and my OC, Scarlet, will happen.  
> Happy reading!!

Scarlet Smith was a quiet and obedient fourteen-year-old girl and a constant reminder to her uncle of how much she resembled her Irish mother. Her bright red hair shone brightly, her many freckles visible on her pasty-white complexion, and her posture perfect as she sat down to play the piano. She was dressed in her best as she was forced to attend another one of her uncle's extravagant parties. Scarlet would have favored a quiet evening alone with a book, but as such, she was stuck in a room full of drunk men and women.  
Her hazel eyes scanned the white and black keys before playing. She was thinking of which song to play for these fools.  
Ah, she thought. I know what to play.  
As her fingers brushed the keys in one swift movement, it brought the busy crowd to a hush and they stopped their bantering to listen to her play.  
"Randall, your niece is full of surprises this evening." Said Gerald, a middle-aged man who ate too much and had a large appetite for women. His belly jiggled as he chuckled.  
Randall smirked, watching his niece. Randall Smith was Scarlet's father's younger brother. Lamont was his name and his life was taken while he slept. "I take it you are enjoying the view?" Randall glanced over at his cocksure friend.  
Gerald smiled, his teeth forever stained yellow. "I do." He leaned in closer and whispered in Randall's ear. "How much for one night with her?" He was referring to Scarlet. Gerald's taste in women never varied. He liked all women of sizes, especially those of Scarlet's petite frame. She body was stuck somewhere between a little girl and a young woman.  
Randall inched away some. "She is not for sale. I have plans for Scarlet. She is to wed Mr. Johnson."  
Gerald's eyes grew wide. "THE Mr. Johnson?"  
Randall lifted his hand slightly to quiet his friend. "Francis has been a dear friend of mine for years. He is nearing his thirties and has yet to take a wife. He has agreed to start courting Scarlet."  
"Does she know?" Gerald asked quietly.  
Randall shook his head. "No, now be quiet. I want to enjoy the music."

As the evening pressed on, the less the drunk crowd wanted to stick around in a room covered in flowery wallpaper, bland ornaments, a child.  
"Come," said a woman with fine black hair done up in a tight braid. Her silk dress swayed about her body as she twirled across the room and to the door. "Let's head out and have some real fun. All this sitting around is such a bore!"  
"The lady is right," said another man. He was tall and slim and about the same forty years of age as Randall. "Let us leave this humble home and seek adventure elsewhere!" He nearly fell over his own feet as he met with the woman at the door.  
Randall smiled, nodding. "Alright." He turned to Scarlet. "I expect you to be in bed by the time I get home." With that, Randall and his group of drunk friends left the room-their footsteps echoing as they descended the stairs.

Scarlet took a breath. At last, she could breathe! The entire time she forced back a gag as the stench of old men and alcohol wafted through the room. The smell clung to her like bad perfume and she hurried to the bathroom to wash the odor off of her.  
After, Scarlet retreated to her room. Her aunt Sophie, Randall's wife, lay asleep in the next room over. The woman rarely took an interest in her husband's activities.  
Scarlet did her best not to make a sound. Always tip-toeing her way around her room once evening had come. From there, she brushed her hair and after all the knots and tangles became soft, straight strands, she started to braid it. Scarlet's hair was long, almost to her bottom, but she often wore it up as it would sometimes get in her way.

In truth, though, Scarlet wore her hair up high and tight because her uncle would otherwise call her "scandalous". He told her that it made her look like a "loose" woman, and by that he meant a whore. Scarlet didn't know any better though and believed her uncle's words to be true, thus the reason she never wore it down in public or in front of guests when they came to visit.

Just as she was ready to get into bed, footsteps could be heard making their way down the hall. Scarlet's heart skipped a beat. The footsteps were loud and heavy, nothing like her aunt's, and she got up to lock the door to her room. But unfortunately, Scarlet was not fast enough. As her bedroom door opened she did her best to keep whoever the stranger was at bay.  
"Let me in!" It was Gerald and he was thirsty for some young flesh. He pushed on the door with all his might, sending Scarlet back and knocking her to the floor.  
She scrambled to her feet and ran to her vanity table to put some distance between her and Gerald. But Gerald was surprisingly quick on his fat, stubby feet and grabbed Scarlet by the hair. She screamed, hitting her vanity table and knocking all her items off it, including the burning candle.  
"Scream for me again, Scarlet!" Gerald cackled.  
"Help!" Scarlet screamed and kneed Gerald in the groin.  
"Get back here!" Gerald went for her again and stopped her from leaving the room by yanking her to the floor.

As the door swung the rest of the way open by Scarlet's desperate attempt to flee, Sophie stood in the front of the doorway. Her face was filled with terror and disgust and she ran, ignoring Scarlet, or perhaps she was going to get help.  
Gerald laughed as he flipped Scarlet on her back. And no matter how much Scarlet fought him, the man was far too heavy to get off her.  
"Just a taste." He said as he snarled in her ear. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed hard.  
Scarlet screamed. She threw her hands up at him, fighting with all her might. But her fists were no more a threat to him than a human to a bug. She was crying now as Gerald touched her most private area. He squeezed harder than he did her breasts. He muffled her eyes with one hand and kept her down by his own weight. He smothered his face into her neck and licked her. The stench of his body order made Scarlet gag behind his hand and she nearly threw up.

Scarlet found little victory in hitting him repeatedly, but the damn man wouldn't give her an inch!  
Suddenly, she searched the floor blindly with her hands as she could not move her head to see. She felt her quill and picked it up, preparing to stab Gerald. She had planned to strike him in the arm or his back, but her aim was off and she accidentally pierced his throat.  
Gerald gasped and released Scarlet. He hovered over and placed his hands on the quill. Scarlet was in just as much shock as he was. This was never her intention, but it happened anyway.

Gerald pulled the quill from his neck and blood spurted everywhere and by now the flames from the candle that had fallen caught on to the curtains.  
"I'm sorry," Scarlet mumbled, tears still flowing.  
Gerald grabbed his neck to try and stop the bleeding but did him little good. He tried to stand but was quickly losing consciousness and slumped back on to Scarlet. Gerald died on top of her, his blood staining Scarlet's white nightgown.

The flames were now out of control and smoke quickly filled the room and seeped out into the hallway. Aunt Sophie still hadn't returned and Scarlet was unsure she ever would. She tried to move Gerald's body off her but he was heavy and the smoke was started to sting her eyes and burn her throat. She coughed, the smoke consuming her lungs. She screamed, hoping someone would hear her, but no one was coming-not before it would be too late, that is.

With one last attempt her free herself, Scarlet crawled her way out from underneath Gerald. The fire was taking over the small, yet lovely Charleston home rapidly. Scarlet found no other choice but to flee from her uncles home. If she stayed and tried to save the house she would succumb to the flames, and if she fled, only to stick around for her uncle to find her, he would surely beat her. The memories of his belt hitting her naked back forced her to a decision she had long since dreamed of doing: running away. The welts on her back were reason enough.  
This place was too dangerous for her stay. Even if there was no fire, the fact that one of Randall's friends forced themselves on her had clarified her need for a safer place.

* * *

The moment Scarlet escaped her gilded cage, she turned to look up at the house as it went up in flames. A large sum of people was already gathering to the scene and an even bigger amount worked together to start putting out the fire.  
The house overlooked the sea and the ships that came into the harbor, so it was easy enough to reach where there was plenty of water.  
"Are you alright, miss?" A man asked Scarlet, shocked to find her covered in blood.  
It was dark so it was hard to see his face. Scarlet shook her head and stumbled away from him. Luckily, no one else paid any mind to her as she made her way from the crowd.

The cobblestone beneath her feet hurt, but Scarlet was in such a state of panic that she ignored it. Just then, a carriage came riding down the road. Scarlet knew that carriage. It was her uncle. She quickly ducked behind a wall in an alley and waited for the carriage to race by.  
When the coast was clear, Scarlet made her way down the street again. The further she ran, the less noise from all the commotion could be heard. She wanted to get as far away as possible and leaving town was her only chance of truly escaping her uncle's grasp.

As the rain started to pour, it showed Scarlet no kindness. It was freezing and her feet were going numb. Also, the clouds passing over the moon made it difficult for her to see as she slipped out of Charleston. The mug caked her feet and stuck between her toes. Eventually, she fell, slipping on her side. Mud splattered on her face and in her hair. So much for taking a bath that evening. Scarlet refused to stop there. If she let a little mud stop her, then she was wrong to ever think about ditching the only life she ever knew how to live.

Out of the open field and into the belly of a small forest, Scarlet found a bit of sanctuary under the trees. Even though the rain might not have lifted, the tree provided some form of shelter. However, the dropping temperature was another concerning manner. If Scarlet didn't find a warm place to hide, then she would surely die from the cold-or worse-be eaten by an animal.  
Scarlet did the only thing she knew she was capable of and that was to keep running. If she kept her heart racing and blood pumping through her body, then maybe she would stand a chance. To stop for a rest would mean to be tempted for sleep, and if she fell asleep as cold as she was now, death would most definitely swing her to her rest.

Scarlet heaved as the last of the adrenaline ran through her body. Her body felt stiff and she was soaking to the bone. Not to mention, her feet had been scratched all to hell from the uneven ground, rocks and broken twigs on the ground. They were bleeding, her open wounds causing her a great deal to stay on her feet. It hurt so much to walk.

At last, Scarlet popped out of the forest and into a cornfield. It was not yet tall enough to shield the view of a farmhouse up ahead. Her first thought of action was to run up to the front door and start banging, but fear of uncertainty stopped her and she headed tot he barn that rested a few hundred feet away. And with the last of her strength, Scarlet sneaked into the barn. The animals were restless from the storm raging outside but they bothered her not.  
A pile of hay lay in one corner of the barn and Scarlet made it her mission to sleep there for the night. She snuggled deep into the hay and piled bits and pieces of it on top of her to keep warm. This quaint little barn would do, for now, however, yesterday would prove to be another task entirely.

* * *

Thomas found it hard to sleep that night with all the wind from the storm rattling his bedroom window. The air was humid and opening his window did him little good. He was groggy and unable to stop rubbing his tired eyes. It was almost eight in the morning when Gabriel swung by and knocked on his door.  
"Get up, Thomas! Father needs your help in the barn today."  
Thomas grumbled. "I thought we were going hunting today."  
"We are, but father has come chores for you before that. Now, get up, have some breakfast and get going." Gabriel's footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

Thomas splashed some water on his face and neck from a wash-dish sitting on his dresser before getting dressed. He picked out a light, long-sleeved shirt to help keep him cool throughout the day and his usual everyday breeches and stockings.  
After eating some breakfast which consisted of bread and jelly, Thomas headed to the barn to meet his father. Benjamin Martin was standing just outside, getting some tools together before going out into the field.  
"Thomas, I need you to feed the horses this morning. Nathan is feeling sick and Samuel is busy helping Margaret with the young ones."  
Thomas nodded to this. "Yes, father."

The air was stuffy inside the barn, making the beads of sweat on Thomas's forehead accumulate. He wiped them away by the sleeve of his shirt and got right to work. He grabbed a pitchfork and started spiking the hay to feed it to the horses.  
"How can you stand being in here?" Thomas said to them. In response to Thomas's question, one of the horses snorted. "Yeah, me too." He said back.  
As he turned to pick up more hay he stopped suddenly. Something within the hay moved and Thomas raised the pitchfork. If it was some kind of wild animal, he would have to be ready to kill it before it attacked him. But it was no wild animal, just a girl with wild looking hair as parts of it stuck out of place from the humidity in the air. She was still sleeping as she moved some of the hay off her.  
Thomas dropped the pitchfork when he saw the blood on her nightgown and ran to get his father.

"Dad! There's a girl asleep in our barn!" Thomas yelled as he ran to catch up with father.  
"A what? Thomas slow down." Benjamin said.  
Thomas pulled at his father arm; his need to have his father follow him was urgent. "I said, there's a girl asleep in our barn. You have to come quick!"  
As this was going on, Gabriel stood to watch from the porch. The frantic look on his brother's face did not go unnoticed and he ran to meet up.  
"In the hay, see?" Thomas pointed.  
Benjamin walked up to the pile of hay and indeed there was a girl sleeping in the hay.  
"What's the matter?" asked Gabriel as he made his way inside. "Oh..." He stared down at the girl along with his brother and father.

The sneeze of a horse is what finally woke the young girl from her slumber. When she saw the three staring at her, she became tense and curled herself up into a ball, scared.  
Benjamin crouched. "We're not going to hurt you." He tried to ease her worries. "We want to help you." He noticed the blood on her and many scenarios ran through his head. "It's going to be okay." He held his hand out to her which only made her scoot further back. Benjamin sighed and stood up.  
"What are we going to do, father?" Thomas asked.  
"We can't just leave her be," Gabriel said as he looked down at her bloody feet. "She's hurt."  
"Thomas," said Benjamin, "run and get Abigail. She'll know what to do."

Thomas was quick about it and returned with Abigail at his side in just a few minutes.  
Abigail knelt down in front of the girl and smiled. "What's your name, sweetheart?"  
The girl was unsure if she should answer but she felt no real threat coming from them, so she decided to answer. "My name is Scarlet."  
"Hi, Scarlet. I'm Thomas."  
Gabriel nudged his brother in the side and hushed him. "Not now, Thomas." He whispered. "One thing at a time."  
Abigail cleared her throat and continued coaxing the girl out from her hiding place. "What a pretty name, Scarlet. You can call me Abigail. These are the Martins, they're good people and will take care of you. Do we have your permission?"  
Scarlet thought about it for a while and then nodded. When she tried to stand she fell back on her bottom. Her feet were too badly cut up to walk on her own.  
"Gabriel, carry her inside the house," Benjamin ordered. "Thomas, gather water from the well, fresh rags, and bandages. Quickly now."  
"Yes, father." Thomas and Gabriel said in unison.  
"May I?" Gabriel crouched down next to Scarlet. Scarlet nodded and Gabriel was careful about picking her up. He carried her back to the house bridal style and into one of the spare bedrooms. This caught the attention of the rest of the Martin children, but Benjamin kept them at bay.

When Thomas arrived with the bucket of water and clean rags, he handed them to Abigail so she could get to work healing Scarlet's injuries.  
"Boy, you may leave now."  
Gabriel and Thomas stole glances at each other and then excused themselves from the room, closing the door quietly.  
Abigail asked no questions as to where Scarlet came from or what had happened to her. The most important thing at that time was taking care of Scarlet. Abigail was quick about cleaning all the blood and cuts. It would be a few days before Scarlet could walk normally again, but for now, she was out of harm's way.  
Once she bandaged her feet, Abigail stood with the bucket and everything else in hand. "Is there anything else I can do for you, miss?" Scarlet did not respond. "Let me get the boys to start a cool bath for you. I'm sure you'll feel much better after a good soak."

* * *

After thirty minutes of prepping a bath for Scarlet, Thomas and Gabriel went back to their daily routines and chores.  
Scarlet did away with her nightgown and let her feet rest on the edge of the tub, not wanting to get the bandages wet. The cool water worked wonders on her body. Her place of salvation might not have been as luxurious as her uncles home, but at least she was far away from his whip and his temper.  
Right before Scarlet got out, Abigail set aside clean clothes and stockings. "Here are some clothes. They belonged to Mrs. Martin. They may be a little big for you, but it will do for now." Abigail excused herself and let Scarlet finish her bath in peace.

When Scarlet finished, it was just after nine and was fed some late breakfast. Abigail fixed her up a bowl of honey and oats. After that, Scarlet retreated back to the spare bedroom with the help of Abigail to walk her back. Gabriel was out hunting so he was unable to carry her this time around.  
Throughout the day, Scarlet gazed out the window, enjoying the scene of country life. She had spent all her life in the city, never seeing beyond its walls or stone streets, until now.  
The younger children played in the yard and Scarlet wondered what it was like to run around in a yard to big. The idea was completely foreign to her.

When evening came around and the smell of food wafted into the room from under the door, Gabriel knocked before letting himself in.  
"My father sent me to come get you. Supper is ready. I hope you're hungry." He smiled.  
Someone running down the could suddenly be heard and Scarlet watched Thomas nearly knocked his brother over from not being able to stop in time.  
"Careful, Thomas!" Gabriel scolded.  
"Father told me to come help," Thomas said in defense.  
Gabriel sighed. "I don't need help carrying her. Go back to the dinner table."  
Thomas furrowed his brows; he didn't want to leave. It was then that Thomas turned to Scarlet, his face softening. "Who do you want to carry you?" Gabriel nudged his brother in the side again. "Ouch! Stop that." Thomas huffed.  
"Go back to the dinner table, Thomas. Father told me to do it, now go."  
Thomas opened his mouth to protest further but he thought otherwise and turned on his heel, shoulders slumped forward.  
"Sorry about that," Gabriel said as he carefully picked Scarlet up, but Scarlet said nothing in response.

The dinner table was lively. The Martin household was full of good spirited people, this much Scarlet could tell. Before her sat a plate of green beans, mashed potatoes, and slices of chicken. It was not the choice of food that left Scarlet feeling speechless, but the amount of it. Never in her life had she been given such a large portion of food. She took a look around the table and watched as their conversations continued to unfold. They laughed and told jokes all while enjoying a hearty meal.  
"Hi, I'm Nathan." A boy who looked a little younger than Thomas finally introduced himself. "You're name is Scarlet right?" Scarlet nodded.  
"Is that because of your hair?" A boy named Samuel asked.  
"My mother had hair like me. And yes, she named me Scarlet because of my hair."  
"I like it." Said a girl with long blonde hair. "My name is Margaret. Nice to meet you."  
"My name is William." The youngest boy of the Martin family spoke up. "We used to have a mother, too."  
Benjamin quickly hushed his son. "Enough, William. Eat your food."

Scarlet second that idea and got to eating. The food was wholesome and filling.  
"How old are you, Scarlet?" Thomas asked. He was sitting across from her.  
"I'm fourteen." She answered him.  
Nathan laughed. "Haha, Thomas, she's older than you!"  
Thomas kicked his brother from under the table. "Only by a year!" Thomas's face flushed red.

As the two bickered back and forth, Scarlet noticed one Martin child that had yet to say anything. "What's your name?"  
"Oh," said Margaret, "that's Susan. She doesn't really...talk. I'm sorry."  
Scarlet shook her head lightly. "It's okay."

* * *

That night, Thomas was unable to sleep again. It wasn't because of the heat. In fact, the air tonight was quite cool and Thomas left his bedroom window open a crack let in some breeze.  
He was thinking about Scarlet and how pretty her hair was. He had never seen such vibrant colors atop someone's head. And her eyes? Oh, her eyes were so lovely, at least Thomas thought so. He also liked the freckles on her face; he thought it made her look even cuter.

suddenly, he leaped from his bed and tip-toed to one side of his room. He pressed his ear against the wall to listen in on the other side. Scarlet was sleeping in the next room and he was curious if she was still up. But Thomas could hear nothing and walked back to his bed. Tomorrow would prove another interesting day, of that, Thomas was sure.  
Who was Scarlet? Where did she come from? But most of all, Thomas was eager to know what she liked to do for fun and if they had any similar hobbies. He desperately wanted to get to know her and become her friend. Perhaps he could show her his collection of toy soldiers?  
Yes, he thought. I'll do that.


End file.
